REEFER MAINSTREAM, Part 3 of 4

"With pot," she says, "you get hungry, horny and sleepy. And none of those
are conducive to work." Now Sally waits for friends to come in from out of
town. She takes time off, and they binge.

"When they come in, then we just know we're going to get baked the first
night they're here."

And the first morning. "As I'm cooking breakfast, he'll bring it in and
say, It's probably time.'"

Sally and her friends don't go out. They stay inside her central Phoenix
apartment. Sometimes she'll have a series of dinner parties for different
friends who smoke-- she doesn't introduce her smoking pals to each other,
fearing it would make them uncomfortable.

And often, if no one's around, Sally's supply will sit in the freezer for a
month. When she does spark up, she prefers a pipe. Or, in a pinch, a toilet
paper bong.

Doesn't the toilet paper roll catch fire?

"You have to know how to do this, hon," Sally says, explaining the
intricacies of lining the roll with foil and poking the holes just so.

Sally has a steady supply. "I have a friend who is a lawyer who has a
sibling who always manages."

The quality varies, but that's okay with Sally, who can't handle really
strong weed anymore.

"The super-duper stuff -- a couple of hits and you're catatonic. This is a
social thing. Who wants to be catatonic?"

THE SALESMAN

Robert is clean-cut, in a nicely ironed, muted Hawaiian shirt, his hair
buzzed and mustache trimmed. No wonder the 49-year-old gets funny looks
when he goes to Trails to buy screens. Last time, he just knew the clerk
was wondering if he was a cop.

Robert laughs, shakes his head. If that clerk could only see the hippie
pictures. Just out of high school, living on the East Coast and working in
a factory, Robert roomed with a bunch of guys who kept a huge candy bowl on
the coffee table filled with weed. Everyone -- even those operating heavy
machinery -- smoked several times a day.

"Everyone did. It was more about who didn't -- at least in our circle of
friends."

His friends all still smoke, Robert says, but like him, they've slowed down.

"I got married, grew older. More responsibilities," Robert says. Like a
wife of 18 years, a 16-year-old daughter and a new house in Gilbert.

"The only time I do it is in the backyard at home, alone, when I know I'm
going to be alone for at least an hour or two."

What does his wife think? Robert pauses, considering the question. Frankly,
he's not sure she knows. She hasn't smoked since they were dating, as far
as Robert is aware.

Robert works in sales; he's held down the same job for the past three
years. The only person at work who knows he smokes pot is the co-worker who
sells it to him.

He would be devastated if his daughter knew he smoked, more so if she
started herself.

"If I found out that she started smoking it, I'd be disappointed in her,"
Robert says. "She's better than I am. She's got a 4.5 grade average,
cheerleader -- she doesn't need that right now."

Marijuana is only a small part of Robert's life these days. "I don't even
really crave it. Sometimes, I'll be sitting around by myself and think,
Hey, this would be a good time to get high.'"

He's much more focused on his golf game. "Now there's an addiction," Robert
says.

THE STATE EMPLOYEE

Hal's parents were hippies.

"There was this one time when I was in fourth grade, and my mom pulled out
this bag of weed and put it in the refrigerator. She said, Don't tell
anybody we have this. Nobody needs to know.'"

Hal thought his mom had some expensive gourmet herbs. He figured out the
truth at 16, when he shared a joint with some friends on the Encanto Park
golf course. Hal was a junior at Brophy Preparatory Academy, the fanciest
Catholic school in town.

"It was kind of demystified for me early on. It was no big deal," Hal says
of pot. And pot has been part of his life since that day on the golf course.

Hal smoked through college and his first job, as a landscaper. Then he
smoked through graduate school at Arizona State University. Now, at 29, he
works for the state, spending grant money for a small agency. Hal figures
he smokes two or three times a day.

"Sometimes, I get up and smoke before work, but mostly just on a Friday,"
he says.

"I usually come home, smoke after I come home. Make dinner, play with the
dog. Smoke some more, watch some TV and go to bed. Just like somebody
having a drink."

Hal's wife, who also has a master's degree from ASU, works as an academic
counselor and smokes with him. He's never smoked with his mom -- he's not
sure she knows he does it -- but whenever Hal gets together with his dad,
who lives out of state, they toke up.